Death at a Premium (17 page)

“They’re the most beautiful dresses in the world, but they’re sort of expensive.” Betty pulled her son’s fist from his mouth before asking a question. “You’re not paying for the dress yourself, are you?”

“Of course I am!” Josie maintained, although her nest egg had vanished.

“I got the impression from Carol that price was no object. I assumed that meant that Sam—or Carol—was paying for it.” The phone on the tiny table in the hallway rang, and Betty answered it, explaining to the person on the other end of the line that she was busy.

Josie sighed and bent down to JJ’s level. He had fallen asleep in his stroller, his head lolling against the padded back. She touched his soft skin with one fingertip, and he opened his eyes and stared at her, a serious expression on his chubby face.

“Well, that’s settled,” Betty said, hanging up. “So let’s get going and find you a dress. If you make your choice quickly, maybe we’ll have time to shop for mine.”

“Your what?”

“My dress for your wedding. You are here to ask me to be your maid of honor, aren’t you?”

JJ began to scream. Josie smiled at the child. She knew exactly how he was feeling.

TWENTY

IF SHE WAS doing this for all the years of Betty’s friendship, she was going to do it right, Josie decided. They began at Saks, then moved up and across the street to Bendel’s and Bergdorf’s. The white dresses washed out her pale complexion, and her muscular arms were not made to be exposed above layers of tulle and lace. At least her chunky legs were hidden by the long skirts. Then, just as Josie was feeling fatter and poorer than she had ever felt in her life, they left Fifth and started up Madison. Josie was tired and hungry, but Betty was on a quest and seemed to have unlimited energy. Just when Josie thought her feet were going to fall off, JJ began to scream again. Betty responded immediately.

“That means he’s hungry. There’s a great little Italian place just around the corner a few blocks up. Let’s go there. JJ loves panini.”

Josie didn’t even know what panini were, but she was starving. “Great idea. Poor kid,” she added as an afterthought.

JJ sobbed until they turned the corner and the café came into view. “He loves to eat here,” Betty explained. “I just hope they’re not too busy.”

“Boy, when you said little, you meant little,” Josie said, peering into the restaurant. Tables were jammed together leaving little space for customers or waiters to pass, but fortunately, as they arrived two women got up from one of the trio of tiny tables set up on the sidewalk. Betty, showing her skills as an adopted New Yorker, wheeled her son over and sat down, staking her claim on the spot.

Josie dropped onto the remaining chair as Betty undid the straps keeping her son in his stroller and lifted him onto her lap. “So what do you think?” she asked Josie, smoothing JJ’s hair.

“It looks nice, but I haven’t seen a menu.”

“I mean the gowns. Which one did you like best? I loved the last one you tried on at Saks. You know, Risa had a point. You do look better in ivory than pure white. And that drop waistline and the full skirt really made you look thin.”

“Betty, it was over eight thousand dollars! I can’t afford anything like that! You know how I live.”

“But I thought Sam . . .”

“Sam would pay for anything I ask him to pay for, but I really don’t want to start our marriage asking him to splurge on a dress I’ll only wear once. I’m not like that! It’s just not like me.”

“What do you want to eat?” Betty asked. “The salads are excellent, and the panini, of course.”

Josie had a feeling that Betty was intentionally changing the subject. “Whatever JJ’s having,” she answered sullenly. “And coffee.”

“Espresso or cappuccino? Low fat or decaf?” A skinny waitress wearing black pants, a white shirt, and looking exceptionally chic appeared at their table.

Betty placed their order with Josie explaining that “regular old American coffee” was just fine with her, and the young woman took off.

“She looks better in her outfit than I do,” Josie said, watching their waitress slip through the small space between tables with ease.

“She didn’t get up early this morning, drive almost two hundred miles, and then spend two hours trying on wedding dresses,” Betty reminded her.

Josie just smiled.

While Betty and JJ enjoyed playing a game of “Where’s JJ?” with a large linen napkin, Josie looked around. In the city the winter before, the many fur coats on the street had amazed her. Now, relieved of their bulky furs, these women were universally thin. Josie, starving, wondered if they had come to the right place for their late lunch. Her doubts vanished when three huge platters of food appeared before them. Panini turned out to be the grilled sandwiches Risa had been feeding her for years. The one Betty had ordered for her was stuffed with two cheeses, grilled peppers, pesto, and leaves of fresh basil. “JJ eats pesto?” Josie asked after swallowing her first delicious bite.

“Loves it. I give him the cheese and pesto here—he can’t handle the bread yet—but at home I put it on pastina, and he just wolfs it down.”

Josie had begun to feel better and she smiled down at the child, now back in his stroller. “Risa would love to hear that. When Tyler was a baby she used to say that children need pasta each day—and she made sure he got it too.”

“How is Risa?” Betty asked, picking up her fork and stabbing a tiny tomato on top of her salad.

It was a long lunch and Josie spent much of it catching Betty up on island matters. By the time they were sipping the dregs of their coffee and JJ had fallen into a deep sleep, Josie was feeling better and was willing to look at a few more wedding dresses.

“The place Carol called about is nearby,” Betty said.

“Then we’d better go there first. Did you say she gave you the name of someone there?”

Betty smiled. “Gertrude Weintraub. And you’re in for it. Carol described Gertrude as someone who can find the perfect dress for anyone. And she was going to call and tell her that we were on the way.”

Josie closed her eyes. “I have a feeling I’m being set up for ruffles and a train—something like Princess Diana’s wedding dress.”

“I think that would be a mistake—even for someone as young and beautiful as she was,” Betty said, getting up.

“And I’m neither.” Josie sighed, straightened up, and smiled at her good friend. “Okay, let’s go.”

The place Sam’s mother had recommended was up a flight from the street. There was an elevator, but while Betty and JJ waited for it, Josie took the stairs.

She entered a white world of beading, Swarovski crystals, lace, silk, and ruffles. If trying to explain the action to Carol wouldn’t have been more daunting than staying, Josie would have fled immediately.

A wave of white brocade parted and a short, bluehaired, chubby woman appeared. “Josie Pigeon.”

“Gertrude Weintraub?”

“Got it in one, my dear. Although everyone calls me Gert.” She peered behind Josie. “Didn’t dear Carol say you would have a friend with you? And a baby?”

“Yes, they’re waiting for the elevator. The baby is sleeping and his mother—my friend Betty—didn’t want to take him out of his stroller and risk waking him up.”

Gert beamed. “Lovely. To tell you the truth, I was a tiny bit worried. This is no place for children—sticky fingers can make such a mess of my skirts.”

Josie realized Gert was talking about the wedding gowns lining the walls and stuffed on racks, not the sensible black cotton skirt she herself wore. “I’m sure. But you don’t have to worry about JJ—he’s a sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart or no, I’ve set up a playpen full of toys in my office for him. So many women are getting married more than once these days, and so many bring their children to fittings, that I’ve become accustomed to taking care of the dear little heirs while their mothers shop.”

Just then JJ and Betty appeared. JJ was still asleep, and Betty rolled him into a corner where he couldn’t do any damage when he woke up. Then she introduced herself to Gert. Josie wandered around, fingering thick embroidered and beaded silk, touching feathery layers of chiffon, putting her hands behind her back when she discovered what looked like handmade lace. She couldn’t imagine herself in anything she saw, but she was ready to endure whatever Gert offered—for Carol’s sake.

She was becoming depressed over the prospect when Gert left Betty and appeared by her side. “I already pulled out a few dresses after dear Carol described you and your life. She seemed to have little idea of what sort of wedding you wanted, whether something casual at the beach, a church wedding, or possibly something small in a private home. So I picked out one for each. And two dresses that are my favorites—I couldn’t resist. They’re waiting in the dressing room back there.” Josie took a deep breath and, steeled for the worst, headed toward the white curtain offering privacy from the rest of the room. At least no one would be able to see the expression on her face when she looked in the mirror.

As promised, there were five dresses waiting for her. Josie approached them slowly. All were the color she had learned this morning to refer to as ivory (at Saks the word
beige
had been roundly scorned). Three were full-length, one had a handkerchief hem, and one, surprisingly, was a tailored suit with a fitted jacket and knee-length skirt. She decided to try the suit on first.

A few minutes later, she was standing before the bank of mirrors, absolutely amazed by her appearance. The suit was transforming. She looked wonderful—fashionable, and if not thin, appealingly curvaceous. She pushed aside the curtain and rejoined the others.

“Fantastic! Josie, that suit is fantastic!”

“But only appropriate if you’re going to be married in a private home, or perhaps before a judge at City Hall. You need to try on the others as well, my dear,” Gert suggested firmly.

“We could get married at Sam’s house,” Josie said, turning around in front of the mirror.

“Perhaps,” Gert said. “Now I think we should skip the gown with the handkerchief hem. I hadn’t met you when I picked that one out, and it really won’t do at all. Try on the floor-length sheath with the little bolero jacket next. That will do for a beach wedding without the jacket and a church wedding with it.”

Josie did as she was told—repeatedly—and in slightly over an hour or so, she had chosen three dresses that she actually loved. “So which is it?” Betty asked when Josie reappeared in her street clothes.

“I . . . I really don’t know.” Gert was leaning over the playpen and patting JJ on his back. “There aren’t any price tags,” she whispered.

Apparently she didn’t whisper quietly enough. “You don’t have to worry about the cost, my dear,” said Gert. “Carol said to assure you that the gown you love is her present to you. Such a dear woman.”

“But I . . .”

“Pick the one you like and I’ll have it ready for you on the big day.”

Betty and Gert were smiling expectantly. Josie looked from dress to dress, completely undecided. “I . . . is there a ladies’ room?”

Gert pointed. “That door to your right.”

“Thank you.” Josie fled toward a few minutes of privacy, leaving Betty and Gert behind, happily discussing veils versus hats. As she closed the door behind her, the subject of flowers came up. It was all too much.

Josie flipped down the toilet seat lid and sat. She needed to think. She was losing control of her life. She hadn’t really come to the city to shop, anyway. The wedding dress had been an excuse to see Betty, and to talk her into asking her husband for help. Now here she was, being forced to choose between dresses, which meant that she had to decide on the spot what sort of wedding she and Sam were going to have. Dresses she couldn’t possibly afford. Dresses she was not going to allow anyone else to buy for her. She was further than ever from getting what she had driven so far for.

She looked over at the pile of magazines and newspapers laid out on the windowsill and recognized a name in a headline. She picked up the yellowing newspaper and returned to the salon.

“Betty, how well do you know your neighbors?”

“Some well, some not at all.”

“How about Maud Higgins?” Josie asked. “It says here that she lives in your building.”

“Oh, I know Maud. She has a daughter the same age as JJ. We meet in the park sometimes, and we’re talking about forming a play group for the kids before winter comes.”

“You know Maud Higgins?” Gert spoke up. “I sold her her wedding dress. A dear young woman with a lovely, willowy figure. She chose the most gorgeous Edwardian sheath in the palest, palest pink, and she carried cream tulips with just a hint of blush in the center of each flower. Beautiful.”

Josie smiled. New York City was really just a group of small neighborhoods. Maybe this trip wasn’t going to be a waste of time after all.

TWENTY-ONE

“SHE WAS A lovely bride,” Gert said, looking over Josie’s shoulder at the magazine she held. “But did she decide to use Higgins instead of her husband’s name?”

“She’s still married,” Betty answered the unasked question. “She uses Higgins because that’s how she’s known professionally.”

“What does she do?” Josie asked.

“Right now she’s a stay-at-home mom, but before her daughter was born she was a magazine editor. She worked everywhere—
Harpers, Vogue, Elle
—as well as a bunch of smaller magazines.”

“That’s right. She was such fun to help find a wedding gown. She knew wonderful stories—things that happened backstage at Bryant Park during Fashion Week, the fall shows of the really big designers in Paris, all sorts of lovely things.” Gert smiled at the memory.

“And she’s the granddaughter of Seymour and Tilly Higgins?” Josie asked, wanting to be sure of her facts.

“Yes,” Betty answered.

“No,” Gert protested. “Or perhaps I should say not exactly. Seymour Higgins is her grandfather, yes. But the present Mrs. Higgins—Tilly Higgins—isn’t her biological grandmother. Her biological grandmother is the first Mrs. Higgins. I seem to remember that her first name was Doris.”